Hidden Pleasures
by Audrey Bogart
Summary: Breaking up is hard to do. Getting together is even harder. Sequel to 'Easily Amused'.
1. Shake What Your Mama Gave Ya!

I'm back! It's been a long friggin time, but I'm back! Being away from the computer for three months can do a lot to a person, including giving them a complete inspiration, which I received when I moved back to Oklahoma. Hidden Pleasures will totally be redone and I hope everyone likes the new story.

**Hidden Pleasures – Shake What Your Momma Gave You!**

In every photograph of myself, from my birth to the age of ten, I have been smiling. I was a happy kid and loved to show that fact at every available opportunity. But at the age of ten, I met Ralphie Johnson. He wasn't a mean child, or even a bully. He just liked to make my life miserable and my life only. But I kept up the smiles and the happy-go-lucky attitude. And then one day I kicked him in the shin. For no apparent reason, for that matter.

The next day, his friends surrounded me; their fists balled and their frowns plastered. They created a tight circle around me and were ready to beat me to a bloody pulp. But I had been prepared. Lying deep within my dress pocket was a tennis ball connected to a short strand of rubber band tied tightly around my palm. The first kid came at me and I tossed my weapon into action. It gave him a mere bloody nose and before I knew it, a lanky brunette was at my side, throwing threats left and right. I backed out into a shadowy corner, away from the other kids and from my new best friend and bodyguard. The tennis ball was still in my grip and I began to slowly realize what had just taken place. I made someone bleed. I hurt them intentionally.

In complete and utter fear, I turned on my heel and found the most secluded area of the playground and dug ferociously in the dirt. After a hole was made, I placed the tennis ball and rubber band inside and buried it; never to look upon it again. That day at the playground, another person had taken over. Someone who didn't care about people, just herself. It was someone I didn't ever want to meet again. And since I've met Dusty, that person never reappeared. I returned to my cheery self, the person I liked and knew. I returned to the regular Becky. Even when I refused to wear nothing but black, a smile was still spread across my face. And, for awhile, the ten year old problem child was lost to the world. I never told anyone about it because I saw no reason to alarm anyone. It was a one-time deal. But time has a way of coming back and kicking you in the ass…

* * *

"It's not going to stain, Becky." Famous last words. I winced as my coworker dabbed a bit of the minty green cream over my skin. In every scary movie you always hear 'nothing's going to happen' or 'everything will be okay'. And then what happens? Every teenager within a ten-mile radius gets turned into puppy chow. I crinkled up my nose in disgust.

"It smells like my grandma…" Ninny, the receptionist and my new facial mask advisor grinned at my remark. It wasn't meant to be funny, for it really did smell like my grandma. Not a bad thing, but not great either. "What is this stuff supposed to do anyway?" Ninny flicked a small crimson curl away from her face and blew a sugary pink bubble with her gum.

"I dunno exactly. Maybe it cleans your pores…or something." Or…something. Great. I'm going to be puppy chow. A small ring from the door tossed me off the front desk and Ninny into the receptionist chair. KayMahoney Travels is usually pretty busy during this time of year – except on Mondays – hence the extreme makeover from Ninny. I quickly sprinted into my corner office to await the customer. Now, there is something you must know about my line of work. I am NOT a travel agent. I am a certified photographer employed by the company to create brochures and billboards that promote the company and the ideal vacation. I also travel for other companies in association with KayMahoney Travels and take numerous pictures. Except on Mondays. Mondays…I'm a travel agent.

Within minutes I could hear the soft pitter-patter of flea market sandals and the swishing of a nylon handbag carrying crochet supplies. Mrs. McGritter. For the three years that I've worked here, a short little woman from east Indiana comes waltzing into the building with the intention of booking a vacation to Idaho on the third Monday of every month. She plans to stay in the state for two weeks and then return to New Orleans. This is about all one can know about Mrs. McGritter. I hastily rub off any extra pore cleanser and stuff the peach towel under my rear, for I am a photographer, not a travel agent, and my employers seem to believe that a desk with drawers is unsuitable for a photographer.

"Good morning Mrs. McGritter! Are we to make the usual arrangements?" I watched the old woman smile before digging in her bag for her checkbook.

"Yes, but I want the cheapest rate this time. I had a different girl the last time I was here and the harlot ripped me off." Hmmm. The only person who works the desk besides me Sandra but she's usually in the back screwing around…Mrs. McGritter then leans in, her hand hiding her face away from Ninny and the rest of the Monday workers, and says "And you know what really warms my buns?" Actually, I could live the rest of my life without knowing that. "I think the little hussy was in the back room…FORNICATING." Okaaaay, flipping through the mental dictionary for the word 'fornication' or 'fornicate'. Bringing up synonyms: Californication – Red Hot Chili Peppers. Let's see here…oh. OH! Yep, that would be Sandra.

"Well, Mrs. McGritter. I will take you to Drew this time. He's a wonderful agent and I'm sure he will get you the cheapest rate to Idaho." I guided her along the row of decorated desks to a heavyset man in his forties – slightly balding.

"I mean it. I want the best rate, otherwise I'll take my business to someone else."

"Not unless you croak first, you old bat", I mumbled through a smile. Oh my. Where in New York did THAT come from?

"Becky! You got a letter!" I recollected myself and made a mad dash for the front desk. Ninny was sitting on top of it, her high heels dangling in the air and swinging my letter in front of me.

"Who is it from?" I always ask this. Tie me up and call me Sally; I just don't trust the postal service.

"Don't know. But the penguins on the envelope are adorable!" Penguins? Say no more. I tear open the envelope and begin to scan over the intricate writing. Definitely Dusty's handwriting. "Well?" I pry myself from the letter to answer Ninny's question.

"It's about Shigure. He had an accident and Dusty wants all of us down there for him." I could feel tiny goosebumps building all over me. Shigure? In an accident? Dusty must be devastated. Of course, I failed to mention that Dusty wanted me to bring Andrew along as well. I crumpled up the stationary and asked Ninny to find someone to fill in for me. If I got fired, I got fired. Right now, my best friend needed me.

I drove along the highway, trying to keep my thoughts under control. I would book the first flight for Japan and then I would make sure everything was in order. I would have to clean out my refrigerator, find a kennel for Stimpy, my St. Bernard, and most importantly, check up on my passport. I could only pray that I could do all these things by the time I have to leave.

I pulled up into the driveway of the apartment complex and ran up the iron stairs to my tiny one bedroom paradise. My apartment is a quaint little piece of property, but I like to take pride in it. It's mostly covered with plants and decorative pieces of art. But it's mine. I was quickly greeted by the slobbering love of my life – a one year old St. Bernard that would never leave me because he was afraid of commitment. As soon as I spotted my cordless, I began to punch the number for the airport.

I had lucked out – incredibly. I was able to book a flight to Tokyo for tomorrow evening. Right after that, I checked my passport and found that it was still good for quite awhile. The refrigerator was a no-brainer. I have a dog, a big dog for that matter, that can and will eat anything and everything. I called up my parents to see if they could make out my prepared checks for bills and to see if they could watch my apartment as well. My mother was all for it. But when I made the mistake of mentioning a kennel for Stimpy, she hastily objected, claiming, "Kennels are almost as bad as nursing homes! You bring that dog over first thing in the morning!" She then asked to give her get well's to Dusty and Shigure. I could only pray that my dog would remain a Stimpy and not turn into a Cujo. By the end of the night, my bags were packed and my body exhausted.

The following morning, I threw on my most comfortable pair of jeans and took Stimpy over to my mom's. The goodbye was a sad one, almost like departing with a good friend. Actually, it mostly saying 'I miss you' and Stimpy drooling on my knee. But sad nonetheless. Before I knew it, I was loading the plane to go see my best friend. As I took my seat, I tried to think of an explanation as to why Andrew didn't come with me. I supposed a flashback is in need here.

Andrew had been the love of my life for a year until about a week ago. He claimed that he just wasn't the man for me and walked out, leaving me with a clumsy dog and a broken heart. I was planning on telling Dusty as soon as I got the chance, but work was overwhelming then and I was too embarrassed. I mean, the guy didn't even break up with me the right way. It wasn't to my face or even by phone. It was via post it note. Who breaks up with someone by a little piece of yellow paper!

I once wanted to come to Japan so that I could play 'Patty-Cake' with a Buddhist monk. I was naïve then, for now I want to go so that I may show off my PlaySation 2 skills and beat the heck out of them in 'Resident Evil'. I know my zombies. 'Patty-Cake'. What was I thinking? My trip is over and I make a quick call to Shigure's house to let Dusty know that I am in town, will fetch a cab, and meet her over at the writer's house. It's a short drive to the humble abode and I half expect someone to come out and meet me. I walk up to the door with caution, considering the last time I was over here was when I had interrogated Dusty and her lost virginity. Good times. It's cracked a bit and I stick my foot inside as a warning to anything slimy, slithery, furry, or in any way creepy to me and my foot. When I come inside, I find the lights turned out and the house as a silent as a mouse. Mouse. Yuki better pray to everything holy that I find the lights soon. I hear a small noise and before my brain can register the situation, the lights flash on and almost every Sohma is standing right in front of me. Well, almost every one of them.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" Oh no.


	2. It's Just One Of Those Days

And so begins chapter two…By the way, if you haven't seen the movie 'Hero' go see it. Now. Like, right this minute.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket.

**Hidden Pleasures: It's Just One Of Those Days**

I like bread and butter…I like toast and jam…something, something, insert correct lyrics here…that's why I like my SPAM. Wow, it's amazing what one's mind can wander to when they are faced with a situation so traumatizing…oh, there's a light coming towards me.

Don't ask. For some reason, whenever I black out, my mind wanders to the most idiotic things. One time, at camp, I got so dehydrated that I fainted and while I was out, I had a conversation about penguins with Richard Nixon. A year later, I told my therapist what was said during that conversation. She refused to accept me as a client afterwards. The light, I realize, is sunlight pouring in from an open window. But the window does not belong to Shigure's house, which is where I was before the surprise celebration of something that wasn't meant to be. There are some bookshelves adorned with the thick pieces of literature and a few potted plants here and there. My eyes race to find a hint of civilization within the room, and I find a recliner turned towards the window with a pair of legs stretched out towards no particular location. I figure that if I can make it to that sleeping form, which I presume is Shigure, I can find out where the hell I am and what exactly happened. So, like any person on a mission to wake someone up, I stand.

Big mistake. A wave of pain slips over my entire being and I suddenly feel like Shamu has taken residence in my skull. My hand shoots up to my head, which has been bandaged skillfully. When did I need a bandage? In reaction to the pain I fall to my knees and mumble a few choice words. Those words alone were able to grab the attention of the man in the recliner.

"You're up." It was a simple statement. A statement that irritated the bejesus out of me. I try to give him my most infamous dirty look but receive another shot of pain to the head. In the name of spitting camels! "Get back up on the couch and I will go get some aspirin." Aspirin? That would be so friggin awesome. With the help of the stranger, I crawl back up on the cushiony paradise and await the simple drug that will numb the pain. The man returns with a glass of water and a tiny white pill – my salvation.

"Do you know your name?" I can feel the pill squeeze down my throat and the pain begins to melt away almost instantly. With the pain gone, I measure up the man in front of me. He's handsome, in the bookworm kind of way. His hair is as long as Shigure's and just as dark, but it covers up his left eye. I have to fight the urge to take my hand and swipe it out of his face. His eyes are so serious, I note. I wonder if he has ever laughed. Not the sarcastic, 'I'm better than you' laugh, but the 'I can't help that this is funny' laugh. There IS a difference, folks.

"My name is SugarJohn Myers. I am an undercover pimp for the Los Angeles Police Department. Or, 'the Popo' as we refer to them on the street. My partner is a witness for a crime of the governor's cat. She goes by the alias 'Amanda Kissalot'." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his shoulders sink a bit. Okay, okay. I get it. You don't do jokes. Either that or he's heard that one from Shigure. I sigh for what seems forever. "My name is Adrienne Rebecca Carter – in no relation to the president. I was born in New York City but moved to New Orleans when I was three. I am friends with Dusty and I THOUGHT I was visiting to support my friend while she and her…whatever you want to call Shigure…were battling with doctors and what not. Instead, I get a surprise party for an anniversary that can't happen because the guy dumped me and somehow, I end up talking to a doctor that can't even crack a grin!" Wow, where did that little speech come from? Wait, I remember. I had that packed away for when I was running for Student Body President when I was a junior in highschool. So long ago. A sudden thought pours through the tight membranes of what I like to call my brain. "You ARE a doctor, right?" He nods and the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders.

"My name is Sohma Hatori. Dusty and Shigure brought you over here when you fainted and bumped your head on the corner of the table." Hmm. So I cracked my noggin? "As soon as you feel up to it, I will take you back over there." I hop off the bed and follow him outside.

"Um, well, where am I now?" He pauses his swift stride for a moment but doesn't turn around.

"You're at the main house, of course." Oh, _of course._ Stupid me. Stop it Beck, he was only trying to help. There was a long awkward silence between us for quite awhile. I think I was making him nervous, which isn't entirely unusual for me. I think I have made an art out of making people uncomfortable. "Perhaps it would be best if you wait inside while I attend to a patient." My eyebrow rose skeptically, but I turned back towards the giant house and walked inside.

I would like to say that I entered a complete state of solitude and relaxation while Hatori was away, but as soon as I plopped my bootie on the couch, a pair of large, round eyes stared back at me. I'll admit, at first I was startled. So startled, in fact, that I fell off the couch. But the eyes were quickly hovering over me, worry etched on the adolescent features.

"Um…hi?" The boy…girl…kid…stared for a second before smiling brightly.

"You ARE cute!" Ok, I have to interrupt here. This is the first time anyone has ever called me cute. I've been called a wide variety of other things (some not always nice), but cute has never been one of them. This kid is definitely number one on my list. But before I know it, he's launching himself at me, arms wide open. My first instinct is to catch him so that he won't hurt himself. I mean, _that_ is a little harsh. And I did catch him, along with a rabbit. Wait, rabbit? Hold the phone! In a state of terror and toss the mammal to the floor and back up until I hit a piece of furniture. And, like a domino effect of bad karma, a picture frame drops to the ground and smashes into bajillion shards of glass. The kid, I mean bunny, I mean little fuzzy thing that hops, I mean…argh! That THING prances over to the mess I've made and peers up at me. "You broke Kana." Great googily moogily. I broke a person. Calm down Beck. It was just a picture frame. I gather up the last bit of my wits and fall to the floor, a few scraps of glass piercing my skin. I'm going to feel that tonight.

"Look, I don't know how all this works, but I didn't mean to break this frame and I didn't mean to conk my head on a corner and get brought here and I didn't mean to be mean to that old lady at work…" I remember watching an old show with Jet when we were kids called 'Lost In Space.' In it, there was this robot that would freak out and yell 'Warning! Warning!' when there was trouble. Well that robot is going off in my head right at this moment. Tears begin to cloud my vision. Overload! Meltdown! She's going to blow! "…And I didn't mean to think Hatori was mildly handsome and I didn't mean to turn you into a bunny!" By now, I've begun to hug the little creature to my chest in an effort to console myself. He didn't fight me, he just lay limp in my arms, listening to everything I had to say.

A small gasp knocked me out of my dramatic confessional and looked up to find my best friend staring at me. She too, appeared to have teary eyes and I could only guess that she had heard everything. I watched as the girl who used to stand up for me knelt by my side and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"I…I don't know what happened. He just turned into a rabbit and then I broke the picture. I didn't mean to…" I'm not crazy. I have three psychoanalysis tests to prove that. Dusty also knows that. Next to her, I'm one of the sanest people you could ever meet. But it's just one of those days…

"We need to talk, Beck. Don't worry about the picture or Momiji. Shigure will take care of it all. Let's go take a walk, hmm?"

A/N: I know the comedy is on a low down as of now, but you have to remember, Becky is a little more…introverted than her pal. The laughter WILL come though.


	3. Return Of The Adrienne

I hope everyone is enjoying the new 'Hidden Pleasures.' I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm feeling pretty ding dang dong bad for Becky. But that's just me…

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket.

**Hidden Pleasures: The Return of the Adrienne**

Curse. Zodiac. Nude seahorse. This was about all I got out of Dusty's explanation. I told you, my mind wanders. It isn't the fact that I don't like to listen to Dusty and her ramblings…actually that IS the reason. Hmm. Go figure. Anyway, like I was saying, Dusty had explained that the Sohmas were cursed by the spirits of the Chinese Zodiac. Yeah, I got that part. But then I drifted off and came in on that they come back naked and Hatori is a seahorse. I really need to pay attention some more. And then it was my turn. I spilt the milkshake and admitted that I had been dumped. I had just got to the part about the actual leaving of the boyfriend when Dusty mentioned that I would be spending a few days in Hatori's care. Thanks Dusty, oh wonderful friend of mine. The guy already thinks I'm a total nutjob. You're just going to prove his theory.

"We're just worried about you, is all. Hatori is a professional doctor. He can find out what's going on with you." I lay my head down on my knees while she begins to braid my hair.

"I can tell you what's wrong, Dusty, I was dumped. You don't need to hear the same thing from a professional." She smiled at me and I was cheered up a bit.

"Just let him check you out. I know Hatori can come off as a bit of a…"

"Grump?" I feel a bit of a tug on my head as payment for the stinging word. That's right. I forgot he is part of Shigure's little trio thingy.

"To truly understand Hatori, is to not understand him at all." Losing her virginity has done a lot to my friend. She has begun to talk in riddles.

"You make no sense whatsoever, Dusty." A long sigh followed my statement.

"Hatori has come to understand the theory that there are certain things in life that he can't have." Wrong! He's a young, handsome, doctor. What can he not have?

"Dusty, I've seen your stepfather's paycheck. If Hatori makes even half of that, he can still have whatever he wants." I could feel our conversation winding down to an end as she stood up and stretched her limbs.

"Beck, some of the best things in life are free. I'll bring your things over later." I watched as Dusty melted into the shadows of the Sohma household. You're wrong, Dusty. Nothing is ever free. Everything has a price, whether you can see it or not. With that morbid thought racing through my mind, I followed Dusty's footsteps into the house.

* * *

"I still don't trust Akito where Becky is concerned. I know he promised to stay away from her…but…" Dusty allowed her head to dip down as she and Shigure walked through the gates of the Sohma estate. The novelist had repeatedly reassured the love of his life but nothing seemed to calm her nerves. He finally stopped near one of the many trees adorning the Sohma land and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him.

"Becky will be fine. I think you don't give Becky enough credit when it comes to taking care of herself. Besides, Hatori won't let anything happen to his new patient." The corner of Dusty's mouth jerked up a bit, but she couldn't find the smile she knew Shigure needed to see.

* * *

I had managed to entertain myself until sundown and by then I had grown quite restless. There wasn't a lot a person could do within the confinement of the estate and I suddenly felt I had been institutionalized. There were hardly any people on the land or even in the house for that matter. It wasn't until after Dusty had brought over my things and I had changed into a pair of boxers and a loose T-shirt for bed, that I found my new doctor smoking on the porch. I carefully set my bags down beside the opening and stepped out, reveling in the fresh air of Japan. For a second there, I thought he hadn't heard my entrance, so I coughed a bit to catch his attention. It still didn't work. Ok, I get it. So you're not much of a conversationalist. That's cool.

"Those things will kill you, ya know." It was a sincere warning to his health but I still put on a friendly smile so that he could tell I wasn't trying to berate him in any way. I followed the slow movement of his eyes to my face and acknowledge my being there with a slight shrug. This was beginning to get on my nerves. "It wouldn't kill you to be nice every now and then, would it?" As soon as the words fell from my tongue, I snapped a hand over my mouth in hopes that he hadn't heard my rude comment. My large brown eyes were about the size of Oreo's as he turned towards me, his secretive eyes turning into thin slits of what I could only make out as anger.

"Pardon?" He took two steps in my direction and took five towards the door I came out through.

"I am SO sorry! I didn't know what I was saying!" It was fear that had made me apologize. It was my conscience. Before I could let him answer, I made a U-turn back into the house and into the bathroom so that I could rationalize my thoughts.

I was two when I first saw 'Star Wars' and the first thing I can always tell a person about the movie is this: the force. With the wave of a hand and the flick of a wrist, a Jedi master could control and alter one's thoughts. I should have been born with the force. It would prove to be quite handy right now. If I had the force, I could waltz right out of this bathroom and make Hatori forget my mean accusation. I could then stop by Shigure's house and make him and Dusty forget my little breakdown this afternoon. And then I would grab a cab, wave my tiny hand around, and accidentally on purpose make him forget to charge me. After that, I would run by a Buddhist temple and ask that all Buddhist monks learn how to play PlayStation2 and enter some kind of competition and kick nerdy preteens' butts! And all the while, exercising their beliefs in the Four Noble Truths and Enlightenment, of course. I think that if Buddha had a PlayStation 2 available to him 2500 years ago, he would've reached nirvana waaay sooner. I would then grab another cab and make him forget my fare as well. AND THEN…well you get my point. The force could be very useful. Unless everybody had it. Then that cab driver would use the force to make me pay and then I would have to make him forget and then he'd make me pay and so on and so on.

I am hastily brought out of this bright idea by a soft tap on the bathroom door. I crack it open to find Bunny Boy (whom I found out whose name is Momiji by Dusty.) He tells me that Hatori would like to see me and I reluctantly leave my hideout. I follow Momiji through the many hallways and I wonder how easily it will be for me to get lost. In the middle of the living room stands a lanky doctor with a purple duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Wait a minute, that's MY duffel bag!

"I have come to the conclusion that you want to leave." This is true. Very observant. I quirk a thin eyebrow and allow him to finish. He pushes the bag out so that it lays in-between our bodies. "You may leave whenever you want." My instincts tell me to take the bag and make a mad dash for it. But my brain is whining that this man of medicine is up to something. For once in my life, I agree with my brain.

"Under what circumstance?" Checkmate! He simply shrugged and searched his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

"Nothing of the sort. If you want to leave, then go. Nobody is forcing you to stay here." I slowly reach for the bag and wrap it around my shoulder securely. I then inch my way towards the front door, grabbing my tennis shoes just before a cool rush of night airs wraps its icy fingers around me. When I feel safe enough to not look behind me, a find a smile curling at my lips. Free! In the words of the late and great Martin Luther King Jr., 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty! Free at last!' BAM DIGGITY! Great words!

"Rebecca!" I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. I know that voice. My eyes travel up the path to a bright red fabric adorned in gold. There is only one person in this world I know of that could wear something that flamboyant and get away with it.

"A-Ayame?" My vision focuses and I see the silver haired man standing in front of me with arms wide open. Hey, a song title. He grins and I scream bloody murder and head back to the Sohma home. Within seconds, I slide into the living room, giving myself a harsh rugburn, and slam the door shut behind me. The air has escaped my lungs and I find myself in a desperate battle for the simple gift of oxygen. Beside me stands the doc of death himself.

"You…planned…this. Didn't…you?" I wheezed through short gasps of breath. A light knock on the wood beneath my back caused my skin to completely jump from the bone.

"Rebecca-saaaan! I know you're in there!" Holy Donkey Kong! What is this, a friggin scene from 'The Shining' or something? What's next, an ax through the door? A lean hand reaching through the mail slot and stroking my raven hair answers my thoughts. I fly away from the door in a state of panic, my nutmeg eyes pleading with the doctor for help.

"He's your friend! Do something!" His eyes narrow a bit at me and he cocks his head to the side. Ooh. Eerie thought. Michael Myers SO did the same thing in 'Halloween'. Aw man. I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?

"Ayame is capable of thinking and acting on his own. I do not control his actions." Well now's a good time to learn! Jedi powers…Jedi powers…Jedi powers!

I suppose I should break down my fear of the fashion designer for you all. I guess everyone knows the chivalrous travels of Shigure in search of Dusty. Not only did he get slapped while he was in town, but he was also interrogated by Dusty's family – something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. But what every one doesn't know is that Ayame had come with him. How do I know this? I had been expecting a package from my cousin in India and I had made a quick errand of retrieving the parcel. Next to the post office is a small business that has an original fashion line designed by a native of New Orleans propped up in the display window. I never really gave it a second look but on that day, I should've. For when I passed it, I bumped shoulders with a man, whom I thought was a woman at first, and dropped my purse. Like a true gentleman, Ayame picked it up for me. This is how the conversation went:

Ayame: "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Me: "Um, no. Not that I know of."

Ayame: "I HAVE seen you before! You're Dusty's friend!"

Me: "How do you kn-"

Ayame: "You have really nice legs, you know that?"

Me: "Excuse me?"

Ayame: "I'm serious! You know, I have a dress that would look absolutely superb on you! Would you maybe model it?"

Me: "What! No, I don't think so." By now, he has pulled out a tape measurer and is advancing towards my legs.

Ayame: "Just let me get a few digits –"

Me: "Get off! Don't touch me!"

Ayame: "If you would just –"

Me: "Bug off!" I finally shake him off and run off into the sunset with Ayame yelling behind me "You really do have beautiful legs!" I was wearing pants that day. Which is exactly why I refuse to come within five feet of the rascal. With dilated orbs, I watch in complete terror as Hatori opens the door for his friend. Without a second thought, I scamper into the hall – away from Ayame.

For what seemed like hours, I waited outside the door that separated the living room from the hallway. But it wasn't until Ayame began to talk about his highschool memories that I gave into the thought of sleep. Don't get me wrong here, I love to hear about people's pasts. But this is Ayame. I know what Ayame talks about: Ayame. And I can live the rest of my life without listening to him win over the student council year after year after year…

I had just made it around the corner and was just beginning to open my bedroom door when I suddenly felt dizzy. My legs collapse from underneath me and I fall face-first into the wooden floors of the Sohma house. Besides the sharp pain erupting from my nose and the wetness from the blood, I'm pretty coherent. I'm so coherent, in fact, that I am able to ponder why Andrew left me. It's a sad topic, this is true. But you must understand, I CAN"T MOVE! Calm down, Beck. It's just shock from busting your nose open. That's it. Hmm, this wood flooring is true craftsmanship. Really.

I manage to turn my head a bit to the right side of the hallway. It's much more preferable to having my nose crammed in the floor. Beside me is a doorway carpeted in darkness and I can just barely make out the movement within the shadows. I can feel my heart constrict within my chest and fear is building up within my body. Of all times to go paralyzed, why now? The shadow is closing in on me and I do the first thing that comes to mind: I scream bloody murder.

"HATORI!"


End file.
